


Ocean Tides

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Fluff, PWP, Romance, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John complained it was too cold; Teyla disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ocean Tides

John complained it was too cold for skin-swimming.

Teyla disagrees.

The ocean currents flow cool across her skin, but beneath flesh and liquid, her blood pulses with an aching heat.

An invidious current of desire eddies in her body as John’s fingers move at a torturously slow pace. Teyla feels like one of the devices of the Ancestors, painstakingly taken apart and studied by a scientist at his leisure. And John is taking his time.

His lips brush hers, feather-like against her skin. He tastes ardently of salt and desire, and Teyla is hungry for more as her hands sculpt his hips, then cup his testicles in her hands, tracing her thumbs the length of his shaft.

He makes an eager noise against her mouth. Teyla laughs as she breaks the kiss and watches him pant in the star-spangled night.

“Are you cold, John?” The teasing question sets a darkness in his eyes, and his hand slips around the back of her nape to draw her back to him.

“Do I _feel_ cold, Teyla?” Water swirls around her hand as she runs her fingers down the hot length of him and he makes a gutteral noise of pleasure.

“No,” she breathes against his mouth, watching the lazy haze of desire veiling his eyes as his hand compels her to him. “You do not.”

He kisses her in swallows, as though he yearns to consume her. His hands are skimming her skin, claiming her by touch alone.

Half-floating, half-swimming, Teyla uses his body as her anchor, her hands on his shoulders as her guide as she drifts towards him. Her thighs settle on his hips, parted in readiness for the moment of union, and his fingers slide along the curve of her breasts, tingling her nipples with a gentle flick of his fingertips. She gasps into his mouth as pleasure ripples through her breasts and belly.

Teyla presses into his hands, into his body, into his mouth, and rubs herself against him, sensuous and slow. Beneath her hands, his shoulders tense, against her lips, he groans, and his hand clutches at her breast, greedy for more of her.

It takes effort to tear herself away, to gasp for breath at the ache that tenses her thighs as she poises over him. John trails one finger down her belly, and she shivers. His eyes gleam at her as his touch trails through the curls of hair at the apex of her thighs, and she holds herself very still, waiting for what must come next.

The world aches, breathless and hesitant, and John’s smile is powerful and teasing as his spare hand cups her head, threading through sodden hair. “Teyla...”

She manages his name in answer as he slides his finger hard against her and her world flashes gold and white, rose and scarlet, blue and silver. Laughter curves her lips as pleasure slides through every nerve and every bone, tiny bubbles sizzling, popping and exploding beneath her skin as she quivers against him, moaning his name.

“I’m here,” he rasps, and her lashes lift to as he guides her to him.

Teyla slides down and tastes his pleasure in a kiss, the rush of desire as she takes him as deep as she can bear. She aches with the thick hot length of him piercing her body. He mumbles something into her mouth as she tightens around him, then groans as she tightens her flesh around him and rises, almost relinquishing him entirely.

He leans back as she falls back down on him, and his hand rests on the side of her throat. “Again.” Teyla holds his eyes and watches the way his throat works and his eyes unfocus. It is a need, this cycle of loss and possession, possession and loss, and she wants to watch him in the moment of release - to see all his control gone, his expression unguarded, and to know that she has brought him to delight with her body.

So she works him, again and again and again, until John’s hand clamps on her neck, and drags her in as his hips jerk, and she rides the shivering tide of his climax drunk on his kisses and with her thighs tight on his hips.

When he loosens his grip, she begins to move away, the cold of the ocean replacing the heat of his body.

John pulls her back for another kiss - a slow, lingering one in the lassitude of intercourse. When he lets her leave, his eyes gleam at her in the darkness, lit only by the moon-sliver in the sky.

“I’m not cold now.”


End file.
